My Fanny Bryce
by C. C. Snow
Summary: Things didn't get resolved between Rachel and Santana when the original Glee Club kids visited Ohio. It's the opening night of Funny Girl, and there can only be one Fanny Brice.
1. Part I

_**A/N. (I don't own most of the characters and certain parts of the plot. Courtesy goes to the creative team behind Glee.) My first Glee short fic! Tell me what you think! Your comments/reviews will help me be a better writer. SPECIAL THANKS TO kcollinsp FOR BETA-ING THIS WHOLE THING!**_

* * *

**My Fanny Bryce**

**Part I**

"You're already in your Fanny clothes?" Sidney remarked with a look of surprise when he saw Rachel applying makeup in front of her vanity mirror. "The opening is six hours away. Or is Rupert planning on a quick staging with full costume?"

The young actress turned to face him and made a pretty lengthy series of gestures using her hands. He narrowed his eyes at her as he tried to process the code. "Sorry, I, I d-don't understand ASL."

Rachel rolled her eyes and reached down to her purse to get her iPad. The tall, lean man who sported himself in a respectable suit, was making himself comfortable in Rachel's couch when his favorite star flashed her iPad screen to his direction, from which he read, "There will be a quick staging in fifteen minutes but I personally asked Rupert to excuse me because I need to meditate and absorb Fanny Brice into my spirit."

"Oh," was all Sidney could utter, unsure of what else to say.

Rachel cleared the message on the screen and encoded a new one. "I mean no disrespect, but that couch is already reserved," Sidney read through squinted eyes, and Rachel quirked her palm upwards – telling the man to get up and leave the couch alone.

"You're expecting a lot of visitors, huh?" He guessed with a sweet smile as he got up to his feet.

Rachel shook her head and flashed another message on the screen. "They're for the flowers and the giant teddy bears that my fan base will deliver in a while."

"Oh, your fan base, r-right," Sidney stuttered, trying to hide his disbelief. After all, you _must _spoil the gem that made your show sell twice as fast as the marketing guys expected. "Okay, I'll be leaving then. I dropped by to wish you good luck. You'll do great tonight, Miss Berry."

After one polite nod towards Rachel, Sidney fled her room.

Gazing back at the empty couch, Rachel thought about having it reserved for the large bouquet of flowers that _he_ would have left there if _he_ were here. She imagined _him_ being so proud of _himself_ for saving enough money from _his_ weekly allowance.

Rachel looked to her mirror and stared at her reflection for a while. She turned down the air conditioning in her dressing room when she felt a chill in her fingers, and her arms shivered under her thick Fanny Brice coat. There were random shouts and frantic footsteps outside the thin walls that made up her room; a pressure that surely kept the cast and crew in states of frequent panic.

Her iPhone kept vibrating due to the never-ending tweets from the hashtags that she had been tracking for the past five days. She would stay up all night in Elliot's bedroom and refresh Broadway dot com and all other social media networks, blushing at the good words by the critiques, and moping at the callous negations about her performances in the previews. Mostly, though, the scales were tipped towards the moping. The frantic world of reviews left her nights quite sleepless and her appetite nonexistent.

_"__A rookie as one of the most iconic roles ever? One word: unstable."_

_"__Like there will be someone who could top Barbra's performance… She should quit now before it's too late!"_

_"__The revival, as a whole, seemed promising. It's the rebellious-type Fanny Brice I'm worried about."_

_"__A nose job won't hurt."_

_"__Fifty percent Fanny Brice, if you think of it."_

Those words resounded mockingly when she closed her eyes and tried to breathe.

_He_ would've kissed her so hard so that the voices would drown into oblivion.

It didn't take long before Rachel had another visitor. The door flung open, and a sweaty Annabelle Laurent with her clipboard barged in. "Rachel! Staging starts in five minutes! Rupert wants you in-," She lost her train of thought when she saw the actress already in her costume. "Did you think there was going to be a matinee?" The stage manager mocked, her French accent wrapping around her vowels.

Before Rachel could grab her iPad, Annabelle raised an index finger at her. "And quit the vocal rest card. I'm not buying your meditation excuse."

Rachel took a sip of water from her jug before clearing her throat. "I already told Mister Director that I may be excused from the final staging today."

_"__Je sais,_ but he just changed his mind. Rupert decided that we're to do the new song in tonight's show," Annabelle argued.

"What?! That's insane!" Rachel exclaimed back.

"_D'accord!_ But he's decided, so we got to do it. _Manteau des_ Fanny out! And slip back into your working clothes, or Rupert himself will drag you to the stage. And we both know you haven't exactly been his favorite person these past few weeks… nothing personal, though."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"_Deux heures quinze,_ Rachel! _Deux heures quinze_!" Annabelle bit out, before shutting the door harshly.

"I didn't understand half of things she said. Why is she even in this country?" Rachel muttered under her breath. She could hear the stage manager yelling some French profanity as she moved down the hallway. Sighing, the young actress did as she was told and ran to the stage where the female ensemble members were stretching.

"Hello, Dwarfy Brice!" Santana greeted from behind. "Ohmigod, I am so excited to see your name go down in Broadway history as one of the biggest opening night debacles ever!"

The smaller woman held her chin up and composed herself. "I will do great tonight. Your psychological tricks won't get into my head today, Santana. Everyone knows I'm a star."

Her last sentence resounded in her head but it was in _his_ loving and comforting voice.

Santana laughed. "Ya, keep telling yourself that, Berry. I can't wait 'til you get that throat itch again and miss a show. Then everyone will know how much brighter your _understudy's _star will shine."

_Her psychological tricks are probably working,_ Rachel thought. Before she could jeer back, though, Rupert Campion, with the strands of his auburn hair disheveled and his buttoned-up shirt (that was about a size too big) semi-soaked in his sweat, called out her name and handed her some music sheets.

"Why is everyone literally sweating?" Rachel asked.

"The whole air conditioning system's been busted for the past two hours. There hasn't been any iota of chill out of the vents… just air," the director replied.

Rachel bit her bottom lip as she remembered having to deprive her dressing room of the chill that she felt. _Weird…_

* * *

For the next two hours, Santana watched as Rachel struggled with the new song and choreography. She took pleasure in waiting for Rupert to have a stroke with all the yelling, throwing of props, and Rachel's apparent inability to cope with the new material.

"Stop it with the riffs, will ya?!" Rupert scolded the young actress. "It's an F. I want you to hit that high F as it is."

Rachel rested her hands proudly on her hips. "While doing a couple of fouetté turns? That's rocket science! And so _not_ Fanny Brice!"

"This Broadway revival is not about the Barbra-Fanny that the world has known, so don't go on lecturing me about it. Your job is to transform everything I tell you to do into something Fanny-worthy. What's so hard about that?"

"This number's not ready for tonight, Rupert. Just let-,"

"Okay, you know what? That's enough," He cut her off. "I understand that it's a bit too much to handle for you since your naivety eats you up when you're under pressure, so I'll help you through it." Rupert turned to the ensemble. "Lopez! You're up!"

"What?!" Rachel exclaimed.

"Wait, what?" Santana herself was stunned.

"Whu-, what?" Sidney, who was settled at one of the cushioned chairs before the stage, butted in. "Rupert, what are you-,"

"Relax, Sid. I just want your favorite star to see exactly what I want her to do."

He turned to Santana and asked her to do the new number as Fanny.

Rachel stomped her way to the left wing of the stage, folding her arms as her lips pouted. The understudy released her hair from the messy bun and positioned herself downstage to get ready.

The pianist played the notes and Santana sang the new song with full choreography, nailing even the high F during the fouetté turns that Rupert was wishing for. She grinned at the loud applause around her, and took a small bow onstage. Even Sidney stood from his seat at the end of her performance to send his compliments.

Santana glanced sideways and she could see Rupert and Rachel talking in the wings. Her high school classmate kept nodding to something that the director was telling her, while maintaining the annoyed pout in the curve of her lips, making Santana smirk deviously from afar.

The cheering gradually died, but something was still noisy at the other end of the theater. Santana squinted her eyes from her stance and squealed when she found that Brittany, Sam, Tina, Mercedes, and Blaine were still yelling her name in good spirits from the back of the house.

Santana ran all the way from the stage to where her friends stood. She hugged each of them tightly as they, in return, sang their praises of her performance. They were proud—so proud—of her, and Santana couldn't be happier.

"How'd you guys get in here at this hour?" Santana wondered.

"Kurt knew the stage door guy and he let us all in," replied Blaine.

"Porcelain! Where is he, anyway?" She scanned the faces, surprised that she hadn't noticed her roommate's absence.

Tina laid down her luggage. "He had to meet Rachel's dads to give them their tickets for tonight."

"Wait. So, Rachel's promoted to cleaning services?" Brittany wondered.

"No, she's back there with the director. She's been clumsy and her game's a little off today. Well, you know… same old crumbling-under-pressure Rachel Berry," said Santana.

"Oh gosh. Is she going to be okay?" Blaine worried.

Santana gave him a playful punch to the shoulder. "Relax there, Blainey boy. She'll turn back up. She always does."

Suddenly, the stage door girl that had let them in appeared, informing them that they had consumed the rest of their allowed minutes inside the theater.

"Awww, Santana we have to go, but we'll see you and Rachel tonight," said Sam.

"Yeah, Tina and Brittany should unpack," Santana replied.

"But before that, we're going to make a quick coffee run," added Blaine.

"A coffee run?" beamed Santana. "Can I go with you, guys?"

Blaine raised his brows. "Are-, are you s-sure? Don't you have staging sessions or rehearsal or something?"

"You just watched it finish. And an hour out wouldn't hurt, I swear."

"Then I guess you can come!" Blaine exclaimed, and they left the theater altogether.

At the café, the group of friends caught up with stories that had happened after their last reunion at Ohio. Everyone took maximum comfort in each other's presence, except for Brittany and Santana. When the former would turn her sight to the latter's direction, Santana would look away and pretend like she hadn't been staring at Brittany the whole time she was gleefully talking about her membership in The MIT Dance Troupe.

Santana kept up with her deadline and bid her friends a temporary farewell before heading back to the theater to start preparing for opening.

On her way to the women ensemble's dressing room, people continued to give their most sincere compliments for her impromptu performance, much to Santana's delight. Somehow, her vibrant number eased up the tension in the theatre.

Santana sat at her desk, in front of her vanity mirror and was about to prep her hair for the wigs, when she saw a peach Hallmark card resting peacefully among her things. She remembered that Quinn Fabray sent a little _'good luck'_ present to their apartment, thinking it was still Rachel's address. Sighing, she picked up the card and walked to Rachel's room.

A couple of knocks on Rachel door gathered her zero response at all (not even a yell that goes _'Wait a second!'_).

"Rachel?" Santana called out before knocking louder. "Open up. I have something for you!"

No answer.

She wrinkled her nose in bafflement before reaching down to Rachel's doormat and retrieved the spare key under it (Rachel kept a habit of keeping spare keys under doormats), and forcefully made her way in. To her surprise, all the lights were shut off and there seemed to be no trace of Rachel Berry.


	2. Part II

_**A/N. (I don't own most of the characters and certain parts of the plot. Courtesy goes to the creative team behind Glee.) So this is the second and final part. Thank you for the reviews! Anyway, someone asked about what ASL is... It stands for American Sign Language.**_

* * *

**Part II**

On her way to the stage wings in search for the stage manager, Santana bumped into Sidney.

"Mr. Greene!" She exclaimed when she came face to face with the producer.

"Please. Call me Sidney."

"Sidney," Santana began. "Have you seen Berry?"

"The last time I saw her was after your performance. I saw her leaving her dressing room in her working clothes… probably went off for a coffee run or something. Didn't you check her dressing room? She's probably dressed in her first Fanny outfit again."

Santana intended to laugh at the light joke, but a thought, a pervasive thought, that something was wrong prevented her from doing so. "I'm actually on my way to the stage. She might be meditating there, I don't know."

Sidney laughed. "Yeah. Good luck then, my dear Santana." He walked past her.

Santana proceeded to the stage and frowned when she couldn't spot anyone around. She explored backstage, searching for Annabelle or for Rachel.

"Annabelle?" Santana tapped the stage manager lightly on her shoulder when she saw her talking to the tech guys below at the orchestra pit. "Have you seen Berry?"

"Isn't she staging with Rupert? Why'd you ask?"

_Actually, she's missing,_ thought Santana.

"Good idea," Santana said instead. "I'm just about to hand this Good Luck card to her. That's all."

She turned away from the stage manager with her heart starting to pound faster. "Where the fuck is Rachel Berry? It's less than three hours to opening show," she muttered to herself.

Santana tried Rachel's phone but it just kept ringing. She was about to dial Kurt's number when his name showed up on the screen as an incoming call.

"Hummel!" She greeted when she picked up. "Do you kno-,"

"Santana, did you give the Hallmark card to Rachel already? Quinn called to check on it!" Kurt shouted at the end of the line.

"Why is it so noisy there? Where are you?"

"There's a crazy traffic jam here and everyone's pissed off! I'm walking with Rachel's dads! They're excited for her tonight!"

_Rachel's dads… uh oh._

"What was it that you wanted to ask me?!" Kurt followed up.

Santana gulped nervously before replying. Kurt wouldn't take it not to tell Rachel's dads about their daughter's absence, so Santana decided that it would be best to just abstain from saying anything. "Nothing. T'was nothing." She hung up without warning, and tried her best to maintain her steadily rising panic.

She hailed a cab and contracted the cabbie to be her personal ride for the night. Well, hopefully she wouldn't have to use him _all _night as opening was now in two hours.

She first checked Elliot's apartment, but she only found her ex-bandmate dressed and ready for tonight's performance. No Rachel in sight.

That seemed to be a theme for the night—Rachel being evasive to even Santana's most desperate ideas. She searched NYADA front to back, for God's sakes, and Rachel still didn't appear anywhere.

She retrieved her phone from her pocket and several messages and missed calls flashed on the screen. Some from the theater people (Annabelle mostly), and the rest from excited friends and families. Santana wanted so badly to inform someone of the situation, but she couldn't bear to put more people in distress tonight.

_There are still a few options left before start calling for help,_ Santana thought.

* * *

Meanwhile, in the darkest corner of Central Park, Rachel sat stiff on a bench, her gaze fixed on nothing in particular. It was just her and the bench and the darkness, and Rachel appreciated the _nothingness _of it all.

The dusk wind left her freezing in her working clothes, and she anchored her feet on the bench and crossed her arms, hugging her knees to her chest. Taking a deep breath, she hummed to the tune of her favorite _Journey_ classic, the song that would always give her the feeling of _home, _wherever she was.

Rachel's phone vibrated endlessly beside her, against the wood. Annoyed, she picked it up and a cascade of missed calls from Santana met her sight. She closed her eyes and thought of _his_ smile, and with ease, she reached beside her for her phone and in the darkness, searched for the off switch – pressing it firmly until the device shut down. A wry smile marked her lips as she fought the tears that pooled in her shut eyes.

She didn't care about time, about opening night, or anyone else that screamed her name for whatever reason. Rachel was with herself and her vibrant thoughts of _him_, and nothing else seemed to matter.

"Finally!" A voice exclaimed from close by, knocking Rachel out of her reverie.

She looked up only to find Santana approaching her. The taller woman stood before her, with her hands on her hips, and an eyebrow angrily quirked to the sky.

"How did you find me?" Rachel mumbled weakly as she buried her face down.

Santana took a deep breath and sat beside her. "There was only one person in this entire world who could keep Rachel Berry's phone dead. When I called and it didn't even ring, I knew you were trying to be with _him_ again. Your sanctuary here in NYC is the park closest to The Callbacks Bar, so I figured you'd be here."

Rachel let her sobs out – her tears racing down her flushed cheeks. "Alright, then. Game over. Go back to the theater."

"Hey! That was supposed to be my line!" Santana playfully scolded her. "And I mean it! Go back to the theater! I'm sure Rupert, Annabelle… basically everyone in that place is already freaking out now that they realized, Fanny Brice has gone missing! And so is the first understudy!"

"Believe me, they would stop freaking out if their first understudy shows up." Rachel sat up properly. "You've always wanted the spotlight, and now it's yours. And I don't mean that sarcastically. I just don't have the energy to be Fanny tonight."

Santana thought about being the one to wear the Fanny wig on opening night, and the honor of it tempted her.

"You'll do just fine, Santana. I'll be fine here with _him,_" Rachel followed up.

"That's what this is all about?! Finn _'gods-bless-his-soul'_ Hudson?" Santana removed her coat and put it around her friend, who was already shivering. "You were doing fine with your grief. What changed?"

"Finn's chair at the theater will be empty and I can't bear to look at it like that," Rachel hugged the coat around her.

"Berry, you can't just walk away from Funny Girl just because you have trouble coping. You should be helping yourself."

Rachel stood and gave Santana her coat back. "I don't need you reprimanding me about this. Go back there and be the Fanny Brice that you always wanted be!" She walked off slowly, her hands shaking at her sides.

"Good heavens, Berry! How much did you have to drink?" Santana exclaimed when she noticed the struggling steps of her friend. She stood from the bench as well and put her coat back on Rachel.

_This is worse than I thought,_ Santana uttered under her breath.

All of a sudden, Rachel slumped out of Santana's grip and onto the cold tarmac, crying aloud. Santana surveyed their surroundings, and heaved a sigh when there was nobody near enough to take notice of Rachel's tantrums. She got down to her knees and ducked to Rachel's eyesight. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's okay. You were right."

"No! It came out so wrong!" Santana argued. "You've been helping yourself ever since Finn died. I know that. And this grief of yours is never nonsense, d'ya hear? It's just as real as he was."

Rachel buried her face into her hands and cried more.

"If I was doing a fair job with this grief, I wouldn't be like this right now. I'm a complete mess, Santana."

Santana pulled the coat back up to properly shield Rachel from the chill. "It happens, Rach. You are so stressed out because of opening night, so you regress back to Finn. It's okay. You'll just have to endure the helplessness while continuing with what's happening in your current world."

Rachel shook her head and bridled more sobs that were desperate to be let out. "I just can't perform tonight, Santana. Please go back there and do it for me. That's what understudies do."

"Well, lucky for you, I'm not just your understudy. I'm also your friend."

Rachel, despite her state, managed a short laugh. "Yeah right. We are very good friends," she repeated with full sarcasm.

"Alright, fine." Santana grabbed Rachel's arms to force her to stand up and walked her to the nearest bench for them to settle on. "You want to mope about Finn? Then go mope about him! Come on, I'm all ears," She told Rachel, with her tone slightly raised in annoyance.

The smaller girl simply cried out loud, uttering nothing but "I miss him."

_Heaven help me,_ thought Santana – shaking her head and slapping a hand to her forehead.

"Hurry up now, Berry. We're going to miss opening night," she jeered.

"Just go back to the theater, Santana! I don't see why it's so difficult for you to just leave me here to rot. It's not like I'm you're favorite person!" Rachel yelled – her fists clenching from all the held back frustration.

"I know that. And it's because you can be so annoying at times," concurred Santana. "But Finn loved you, and Finn was important to me… so that makes you semi-important to me."

Rachel looked at her with disbelief. "So you bashing and insulting me these past weeks was because I am semi-important to you?" She mocked.

The other girl only rolled her eyes. "I mock people for fun, you know that. You've known me since sophomore year, Berry."

"Just because you find it fun, doesn't mean I do. You're like this goddess of all mean things."

Santana sighed. "We're like typical sisters, Rach. We insult each other and pull scary pranks at each other and we fight all the time, but you know what sisters also do? They help each other. This would be me helping you. And tomorrow, I will be calling you _Dwarfy Brice_ again but right now, I need to get your ass back to the theater because I'm not going to let all your hard work go to waste."

"I'm not doing it. Go and be their Fanny."

Santana grunted in frustration and kneeled in front of Rachel. "Look at me, Rachel! Look at me!"

The weeping girl gave sporadic sniffing, but did as she was told.

"What would Finn say if he found out you went MIA hours before opening night? Come to think of it, Rach! What would he tell you? What would he do to you?"

Rachel wiped her eyes clean of the tears. "He would be so mad at me for pulling off this stunt. Then he would find me and soothe me, coax me into walking back in there."

Santana nodded. "If you can't do this for me or for yourself, do it for Finn. I'm sure he regretted having to leave earlier than planned. Rachel, I know he wishes he could be sitting in that seat just as much as you do."

Rachel looked at her shaking hands before taking one deep breath to compose herself.

Santana retrieved a piece of paper from the pocket of her tights and unfolded it. "I found this in our apartment yesterday. I believe it's yours." She handed it to her.

The edges of the paper were worn out by time, and the fold creases across it were shrill to the eye, indicating a note written a long time ago. Rachel held it and recognized the handwriting.

"Congratulations, Rachel! I knew you'd get the role! I'm going to be there on your opening night. I'll be watching you shine. I love you. You're my perfect FANNY BRYCE. –Finn," the note read. Rachel wiped the lone tear that escaped. She remembered Finn dropping by their apartment a long time ago, to give her a rose and that note.

"He spelled Fanny's name wrong," remarked Rachel before giving out a soft giggle.

It didn't take long before her lips pouted and the gloom in her eyes returned. "Santana, what if I'm not good enough?"

She narrowed her eyes in confusion. "Rachel Berry doubting herself? I didn't know it was even possible!"

Rachel gave a shy smile and looked down as she felt a light blush cover her cheeks. "It's the reviews. They keep comparing me to Barbra and then there's this independent blogger who predicted the downfall of-,"

"Don't listen to them, Rach," Santana comforted. "I know you're longing for Finn to pull you into a hug right now and tell you the same thing: don't listen to them."

Rachel rested her head at Santana's shoulder. "He was my anchor, Santana… and now he's gone."

"I know that. That is why, you have to be your own anchor for now." Seeing the sweet curve that her lips made, Santana's eyes lighted up. "So what do you say, Fanny Brice with a 'Y?' Ready to kick some asses?" She grinned at Rachel.

Her eyes began to light up. "I'd give you a hug, Santana, but we're running late for the opening."

"Come on!" Santana got up, held Rachel's hand, and sprinted to her personal cab for the night. They _would _make it back to the theatre in time, at least, if Santana had anything to say about it.

_**fin**_


End file.
